


And Warlock Makes Three.

by The_Magic_Rat



Series: I Think We’re Alone Now [5]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21690721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Magic_Rat/pseuds/The_Magic_Rat
Summary: Crowley finds something in a dumpster.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: I Think We’re Alone Now [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660048
Comments: 35
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fits in with my “I Think We’re Alone Now” AU.

_**Good Omens – And Warlock Makes Three.** _

_**Author: The Magic Rat  
Rating: PG  
Pairings: Crowley/Aziraphale  
Warnings: Sex, children in not-great circumstances, angst.  
Word Count: 5852** _

_**Website – Ex Libris: http://www.winter-wood.net/ex-libris/index.html  
Live Journal: http://delaese.livejournal.com/profile** _

_**Disclaimer: All Good Omens characters, places and situations are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, and are used without permission and without intent of plagiarism or profit. Copyright for all stories and original characters is with the author, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent.** _

_**Summary: Crowley finds something in a dumpster.** _

_**Author’s notes: Part I of II. Fits in with my “I Think We’re Alone Now” AU.** _

_**Gift for Miss Animama. ** _

~*~*~*~*~*~

Aziraphale was quite secure and comfortable in his own company, but having friends was something of a new and amazing experience for him. For all of his existence, Crowley had been his only friend, and he loved and treasured him. But, now that they lived together, some days it was nice to let Crowley be himself and just do his own thing. They didn’t need to be in each other’s space 24/7. And Crowley appreciated the opportunity to...well... climb walls, rub his face on the stone fireplace, eat squirrels, and practice his disco dancing.

Crowley was a lot more strange than Aziraphale had known, even after six thousand years of friendship.

So one sunny Thursday they each went their separate ways, Crowley for a drive to who-knew-where, and Aziraphale for an outing with Azalea and the nuns. They visited a plant nursery, attended a short concert in the park, then they decided to go back to Aziraphale’s place for a late lunch. He was just opening the door to his apartment when he felt something. And not just he, but the sisters as well. A strange, powerful aura radiating through the apartment that stopped them in their tracks. 

“Oh that’s not good,” said Aziraphale quietly.

“What do you think it is?” asked Azalea.

“I don’t know.”

Carefully the group entered the apartment, Aziraphale leading the way. Gradually he realized the oppressive feelings were coming from the den. He directed his friends to go to the kitchen, while he went to the den to investigate. He found Crowley seated on the Queen Anne love seat, holding something to his chest. Aziraphale could tell Crowley was in no mood to be messed with, and seated himself quietly beside the demon. The eyes glowed from behind the sunglasses, and in the dimly lit room they were like eclipsed suns. 

What did you find?” Aziraphale asked softly, leaning close to look. The tiny bundle made a weak squeaking noise. Crowley’s eyes glowed more heatedly.

“In a fucking dumpster. A baby. In a fucking dumpster...”

Oooooookaaaayyy... that explained the palpable aura coming from his beloved. Aziraphale moved aside a bit of blanket to peer at a tiny face. The wee cheek was cold.

“Can you raise your body temperature a little? It may help warm the baby up.”

“I’m probably warm enough,” said Crowley sheepishly, and managed a brief smile. Then – “You’re not going to make me give her up, are you?”

Aziraphale was well aware that, in every relationship, one had to pick their battles. And taking a foundling from Crowley was not a battle Aziraphale wished to have. The hurt, the resentment, the feeling of betrayal would ultimately destroy what they had fought so hard for. No, he had no intention of trying to pry the baby from Crowley.

“Of course not,” he whispered, and kissed his brow. “You warm her up. We’ll have to get a room ready for her, but we can do that later. I’ll warm a bottle for her. Does she have a name?”

“Not yet.”

Aziraphale nodded, then smiled. “You really are the sweetest....”

Crowley hissed, but without any serious malice.

“...most terrible demon ever.”

They kissed, then Aziraphale went into the kitchen to find six nuns and Azalea waiting with bated breath.

“Is everything all right?” asked Sister Beatrice.

“Yes,” said Aziraphale, though he was having mixed feelings about the situation. Babies tended to add a great deal of chaos to life. He smiled. “Crowley has a baby.”

The silence was thundering. Then Sister Astrid said “He’s not eating it, is he?”

Aziraphale gave her an affronted look. “Certainly not! Crowley does not eat babies!” Then, because he couldn’t help himself, added; “They give him terrible gas.”

Azalea gave him a little smile, then asked “Where did he get a baby?”

“In a dumpster. Somebody threw this tiny precious life away like garbage. And Heaven help anybody who wants to take it from him.”

“Isn’t that a bit...odd?” asked Sister Beatrice. “I mean...he’s a demon.”

Aziraphale went through the cupboards casually, “just happening” to find all the things for a bottle of warm milk. “A demon with a full set of parenting instincts. You see...when Crowley fell, he lost a great deal of who he used to be. He remembers certain aspects of being an angel, but not what his Heavenly Task was. There is a chance he was created to look after babies and children, and he retains that piece of his past. All I know is he likes children.”

There was silence as Azalea and the nuns pondered his words. Then Sister Mary said “I wonder if he would let us see the baby?”

“Oh I’d be very careful, sister,” said Aziraphale. “He may give you a bit of a hiss.”

Sister Beatrice rose to her feet. “I will fetch the baby. No Prioress has ever feared a demon.”

Aziraphale just sucked back a smile and kept on with the bottle. They could hear Sister Beatrice speaking to Crowley in the next room.

“Now Mr. Crowley, you are going to show us that baby, right....”

Silence. Absolute silence. A few moments later, Sister Beatrice staggered back into the kitchen, her skin grey, her body trembling. She sank into a chair, looking as if she had just seen her own death.

“Gave you a hiss, did he?” asked Aziraphale politely, filling the bottle.

She pointed a shaking hand in the direction of the den. “I have been a medic in war zones, Mr. Fell. I have sewn together soldiers while bombs fell around me, and I say to you now without any shame that I nearly shat my pants. THAT WAS MORE THAN A BIT OF A HISS.”

“Someone should really look at the baby,” said Sister Margret. “I mean if she was found in a dumpster...”

“And Sister Beatrice and Sister Agatha both have medical training,” said Sister Mary.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Aziraphale. 

He set the bottle on the counter, and went into the den. He found nothing less than a naga perched on his sofa. Aziraphale smiled. 

“Look at you, all protective...”

“I very nearly ate her,” grumbled the creature.

“You can’t eat a nun on a Thursday, it’s bad luck,” said Aziraphale. “Now, will you please let me take the baby to be examined? You did find her in a dumpster, it would be a wise idea.”

“Take her where?”

“Just to the kitchen. Sister Agatha has medical training. We do want to make sure the baby is all right.”

The naga slowly became Crowley once more. “She’s not going to take her away.”

“No, Crowley. No one is going to take her away from you. This I swear.”

Crowley nodded, then said quietly; “I’ll bring her.”

They went to the kitchen, Sister Beatrice still looking grey and shaken. She pointed at Crowley.

“You nearly ate me!”

“No I didn’t, I would never eat a nun on a Thursday. It’s bad luck, every demon knows that.” 

He looked to Sister Agatha. He carefully handed her the baby, and she accepted the infant warily. He watched with intense focus as she placed the baby on the table and unwrapped her.

“She’s still got the placenta on,” said Sister Agatha. “This baby can’t be more than a few hours old. Such a terrible welcome to the world. Well let’s get rid of that...” She cast a sidelong glance at Crowley. “With your mummy’s consent.”

Crowley looked to his angel. “Does it need to go?”

“Yes, my dear. It does. She doesn’t need it any more.”

Crowley nodded, and watched every single move Sister Agatha made. Soon the baby had her umbilical cord removed, clamped and cleaned, a new nappy, and was wrapped in a black and scarlet cotton sweater. Aziraphale gave Crowley the warm bottle, and the demon prowled off with his prize.

“You realize,” said Azalea softly, “somebody is going to notice the pair of you have a newborn. There will be questions raised. This isn’t a stray puppy, it’s a baby.”

“Let’s just...not fret about that for the time being,” said Aziraphale. “When it comes up I’m sure... well...”

“He’ll make the rational decision?” said Azalea dryly.

“No he’ll probably bite some poor officer’s face off but for now let’s just not upset Mummy,” said Aziraphale.

His phone indicated he had a text message. He glanced at it.

Sebastian: Really? REALLY? The demon has a baby?!

Aziraphale sighed and rolled his eyes, then sent a quick response back.

A.Z.Fell: Yes. The demon has a baby. It’s the epic mid-season plot twist of Angel and Demon Squishy Time that even I did not see coming.

He put his phone away, and sighed. There was a long silence from those gathered around the table. Then Sister Astrid spoke.

“Why is it bad luck for a demon to eat a nun on a Thursday?”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Aziraphale was having more fun with a baby in the house than he cared to admit, especially since he was never left with any of the less pleasant aspects of child care. Crowley was handling it all, and rarely using miracles to do it. Although there was that one unspeakable incident where she shat herself most explosively after a lovely big vomit. As Crowley had wisely observed; “Yeah there’s no way that’s coming out of the rug.”

He had named her Annabel Lee, after his favourite Edgar Allan Poe story. She had all the finest custom baby couture clothing, the best toys, crib, blankets, books... Aziraphale could not believe the sheer volume of baby-things Crowley was capable of finding. He stood in the middle of the nursery, overwhelmed at the opulence, as Crowley sat in a four hundred year old hand carved rocking chair, feeding his baby.

“Crowley if she wants a pet alligator one day, are you going to give it to her?”

“How big an alligator?”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Well it should be big enough for her to ride, little girls have a very special relationship with their alligator.”

“You’re thinking of ponies.”

“Yes but our daughter asked for an alligator.”

“Crowley, my darling, my love, the beat of my heart...”

“Yes angel?”

“Were you always insane and I just never noticed?”

Crowley thought about that, then shrugged. 

They had Annabel for a little over a week when things went sideways. Azalea came by, and, after checking to make certain Crowley was nowhere near, silently handed Aziraphale a newspaper. He looked at the headline, and winced. 

Family Holds Out Hope Baby Lives.

“Oh dear,” said Aziraphale quietly.

“The baby’s great-grandfather found out his grand-daughter was pregnant, kidnapped her, held her captive until she gave birth, and immediately took the baby,” said Azalea. “The police are searching. The mother does not even know if she had a boy or a girl. She thinks the baby is with her grandfather, but I think there is a high chance it’s Crowley’s baby.”

“Why would he do such a thing?” asked Aziraphale. 

Azalea shrugged. “She’s very young, it’s a teen pregnancy, she’s only seventeen, he may have thought in some twisted way it’s the right thing. I don’t know. What do you think Crowley will do?”

“I have no idea. But we can’t force him to make any decisions.”

“No, of course not. But...we have to tell him...”

“Let me handle that, Azalea. He’s going to be shattered.”

She stayed for a brief visit, then left. Aziraphale put the newspaper away, and went to the den, where he found Crowley staring at the TV. On it was the news, featuring a family begging for their missing baby.

That...really wasn’t how Aziraphale wanted Crowley to find out. 

They seemed like a nice family – grandmother, parents, daughter, boyfriend standing by, and all in tears. The mother of the 17 year old new mommy was speaking.

“This baby was unplanned but not unwanted! We just want our baby home. Please, if anybody knows anything...” 

Aziraphale was silent as Crowley blew up.

“YOU CAN’T FUCKING HAVE HER, YOU THREW HER AWAY, SHE’S FUCKING **_MINE!_** ”

He put a crystal decanter through the screen and stormed off. Aziraphale sighed and fixed the TV and decanter. He gazed at the family as they pleaded for information about the baby, and the man who had taken her. So, little miss Annabel Lee had a family that cared. 

Well, actually, she had two now.

Aziraphale let Crowley work through his feelings, cleaning up the broken glass, burned spots, melted things, and something that probably used to be a two hundred year old silver tea pot. He knew Crowley had come to a decision by the howl of utter anguish that echoed through the huge apartment. Aziraphale found him in the bedroom on his knees, head in his hands. He knelt beside him.

“Crowley, darling...”

“It’s not fair.”

“I know.” Aziraphale drew him close, holding him tightly. “I know. It isn’t. I’m so sorry.”

It took a long time for Crowley to get up off the floor, but when he did, he began packing Annabel’s things. He was angry and heartbroken, and Aziraphale just let him be. It wasn’t until Crowley was heading for the door with Annabel in her carrier that he spoke.

“Would you like me to come with you?”

Crowley shook his head. “No because after I give her back I plan on driving someplace and getting very, very, VERY drunk and having a long ugly cry.” He looked to Aziraphale. “I’ll be okay, I just...won’t be very happy.”

“I’ll wait up.”

Crowley managed a smile, then left. Aziraphale sank down into a chair, and decided to get a little drunk himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Nana Comfrey was a bit like Anathema in that she saw auras. However she also saw things she called “traits”, which were ethereal manifestations that made up aspects of other beings, invisible to most people. 

She saw the Bentley coming the second it rounded the corner.

The stately car was being driven slowly, and she saw flickers of hellfire around the wheels. She also saw the baleful demonic eyes where the headlights were. She watched it prowl toward the small park where the candlelight vigil for the missing baby was being held, and park on the street. Then she saw the driver get out; lean, lanky, clad in black with traces of scarlet. She saw the eyes glow from behind the dark glasses, and she saw the huge black wings with an odd lightning-bolt shaped scar across the ulna of one. She gazed at him....and he gazed right back.

The problem with being able to see supernatural creatures was they could see you, too. 

He wasn’t doing anything, and she didn’t want him to feel challenged, so she glanced away. She didn’t know why he was here, but there was no need to piss him off. Her grand-daughter Violet came to stand by her side, wiping at her eyes with one hand.

“Who’s the man with the fancy car, Nana?”

Nana Comfrey shook her head. “Be polite, child, that’s not a man.”

Violet could not see auras or traits, but she believed her Nana could. “What is he?”

“Not sure. But he walks in fire and has wings the colour of midnight so let’s just not...”

Violet watched the lean man with the red hair open the car door and pull out a stupidly expensive diaper bag. He then pulled out an equally expensive car seat for an infant. By now more people attending the vigil were taking note of this man, as were the police officers there lending support. The man shouldered the bag, hoisted the carrier, turned and walked toward Violet and her Nana; long steps, one foot in front of the other, hips and shoulders swaying. He was beautiful, powerful, sensual, and he knew it. By now he had the attention of everyone, including the camera crews there to film the event. The man walked directly up to Violet, and spoke in a voice that did not seem to fit the image; a little sad and awkward.

“I’d like you to meet your daughter.”

Violet stared at him, dumbfounded. “My...?”

Crowley tossed the diaper bag at the baby’s father, and carefully handed the carrier to Violet. Gasps and whispers went through the crowd as Violet took the carrier, still trying to process what was happening. She looked down at her baby...who was outfitted in a metallic lace dress from Dolce & Gabanna that cost around eighteen hundred dollars. Violet looked at Crowley, eyes huge, still trying to comprehend that her baby had just come back to her riding in an antique Bentley and wearing clothes that no one in her family could afford on a bet.

“I’ve been calling her Annabel Lee,” said Crowley.

“Where did you find her?” Violet finally managed to ask.

“In a dumpster not far from where you’d been held captive.”

“He threw her in a dumpster?!” exclaimed Nana Comfrey.

“That’s where I found her.” 

Violet was just staring down at the infant in the carrier, and finally comprehension seemed to take hold as she burst into tears. People gathered close, including the police who likely had a few questions for this stranger, but Crowley was already walking away; head back, body swaying, walking like a supermodel. Nana Comfrey went after him, while the press and police seemed to have suddenly forgotten he was even there. She caught up with him at the Bentley, where he was taking a large and costly covered basket from the back seat.

“I don’t know how we are ever going to be able to thank you.”

Crowley handed her the basket of baby-things. “I really did not want to give her back so now may be a good time for you to leave me alone.”

“Can we at least have your name?”

“Anthony J Crowley at your service, Nana Comfrey. Now – are you going to keep her name Annabel Lee?”

“Well my mother told me to never argue with a demon, so...”

“Oh so you do see me. I wondered.”

“Yes, Mr. Crowley, I do see you. That’s a terrible scar on your wing.”

He grinned toothily, with a substantial amount of sarcasm. “Thank you for your concern.”

“I’m so sorry you’re hurt by...”

Crowley yanked open the car door, and Nana Comfrey could not help but notice the tears starting to stream down his face.

“Fuck off, I’m a demon, I don’t give a shit about babies.”

He got into the car and drove off, leaving the old woman holding a large basket full of toys, baby monitors, clothes, pop-up books and tiny shoes. Slowly she shook her head. 

“May be a demon, but you can’t lie worth a damn.”

She turned and walked back to the vigil, which was now a celebration. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Sebastian honestly could not recall ever being actively summoned anywhere in Heaven, so getting called to the door leading to the Primum Mobile was something of a concern to him. Beyond the Primum Mobile was the Empyrean, the abode of God, so anything bad that had made it that far was of major concern. But... why had they summoned only him?

As soon as Sebastian saw the forlorn little figure seated in the hall, he understood. He paused, and was approached by a tall willowy seraph he’d had a thing for since the Dark Ages. Though their name was Beatrice, this beauty was neither male nor female.

Certainly hot though.

Get ahold of yourself, Sebastian.

Beatrice approached, smiling, knowing how their friend felt toward them. “You do not visit often enough, Sebastian.”

“If my presence is welcome, I shall do so.”

“More than welcome. I was hoping you would perhaps one day take me to Earth. I’ve never seen it.”

Sebastian was rapidly melting. “I can think of no joy greater.”

Beatrice smiled, then turned to face the reason Sebastian was called. There sat Crowley on the floor in the hall, surrounded by empty whiskey bottles. He was gazing through the window at the endless swirl of angels that formed the three circles of the Trinity... drinking.

“Is he in trouble?” asked Sebastian.

“No,” said Beatrice. “He showed up several hours ago, seated himself, and...started drinking whiskey. He’s committed no crime, done no fell deed. Just...watched. But he’s very drunk, and I began to fear he may cause himself harm through accident. He is safe enough out here but if he happens to become disoriented and go through the doors... well...”

Sebastian nodded. “I see your point. I’ll take the boozy little snake home.”

“Is that Principality Aziraphale’s demon?”

“The one and only.”

“He’s an odd sort.”

“Yes,” agreed Sebastian, not bothering to find out if his friend meant Crowley or Aziraphale. The description fit both. He smiled at Beatrice. “Let me know when you want to go see Earth.”

“I can follow you down now and wait while you deliver the...boozy little snake.”

Sebastian grinned, then walked over to Crowley. He was, quite literally, stinking drunk. Sebastian bent and gathered him into his arms. 

“Come on, Crowley, this bar’s closed. Let’s go home.”

Crowley was nearly boneless. He watched the floor become very far away. “Am I drunk?”

“Yes.” 

“I thought so. Well we better leave soon because I’m going to puke.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Well you can’t puke here, let’s get you outside. Why did you come here, of all places? One false step and you’d be a few flakes of ash.”

“I came to ask a question.” Crowley was silent for a few moments. “But once I arrived I realized I knew the answer anyway. So I just got drunk instead.”

Sebastian and Beatrice took Crowley home, where he was tucked into bed by Aziraphale and left to sleep off his bender. 

“I take it he is not handling giving the baby back well,” said Sebastian.

“No, not well at all. Where was he?”

“He was sitting outside the Primum Mobile and watching the Trinity go ‘round,” said Sebastian.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “What was he doing there?! One misstep and he would be utterly destroyed!”

“He said he had a question,” said Sebastian. “But once he got there he realized he knew the answer, so he got drunk instead. Any idea what his question was?”

“Probably related to little Annabel,” said Aziraphale. He then looked to Beatrice. “Excuse my manners, welcome to my home. Now – in honour of my husband being a demon, I’m going to tempt you with angel food cake drizzled with lemon frosting.”

Beatrice looked to Sebastian. “Do we wish to be tempted by that?”

“Trust me, we do.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been over a week since Crowley had given Annabel back to her parents when Azalea came to visit. She and Aziraphale were in the kitchen, drinking tea. The atmosphere in the home was decidedly dismal.

“How is Crowley doing after having to give the baby back?” she asked. She blinked, and her eyes became enormous as she watched Crowley walk by the door way to the kitchen; a baby dress on his head, a pacifier in his mouth and a couch pillow shoved up his shirt.

“Not well,” said Aziraphale, rather needlessly.

“So I see.”

“The Academy Awards are on tonight,” said Aziraphale. “I’m hoping they will distract him a little.”

“Oh yes, I remember you saying he quite likes movies. Mind if I stay and watch them with you?”

“Oh no, please do. Perhaps we will get to witness the birth of a cushion.”

Azalea leaned forward and asked Aziraphale quietly; “Are all demons weird?”

“YES!” came a voice from down the hall. “WE’RE ALL FUCKING WEIRD!”

She hid behind her hands. “Oh good grief I’m sorry I asked.”

“I don’t really know any as well as Crowley so I’m not one to judge,” said Aziraphale. “And he’s not weird. He’s...expressive.”

“And you adore him.”

“Honestly I don’t know how anyone could not adore Crowley,” said Aziraphale. 

Azalea watched as Crowley paced by the doorway once more, this time walking on the ceiling.

“That bloody spider’s in the lamp again,” he complained.

“I don’t know what impresses me more,” mused Azalea. “That he can walk on the ceiling or that the dress is still on his head.”

“What impresses me is how he can enunciate around a pacifier.”

They made their way to the den and turned on the awards show. After a few minutes, Crowley appeared, walking down the wall and over to the love seat where Aziraphale sat. He settled on the love seat, lying down and resting his head on Aziraphale’s thigh. Azalea just shook her head and smiled as Aziraphale gently caressed Crowley’s shoulder. 

“You two really are adorable.”

Aziraphale smiled. Crowley blew a raspberry. 

They watched the show, Crowley doing more napping than viewing. He was exhausted, the loss and depression dragging him down. Aziraphale and Azalea chatted quietly, neither terribly interested in the show, but leaving it on for Crowley.

The program was nearly over when a special report came on. Aziraphale nearly muted the TV, but paused when he saw the small boy on the screen. There was something terribly familiar about him. He turned the volume up a little to better hear the newscaster.

“Four year old Warlock Dowling, child of Diplomat Thaddeus Dowling and his wife Harriet was found today abandoned and alone in the family mansion. When contacted by this station, a spokesperson for the Dowling family revealed that Mr. And Mrs. Dowling had taken separate vacations and each thought the other had the boy. Warlock is currently at Royal Brompton Hospital...”

“Crowley!” said Aziraphale sharply, squeezing his shoulder. Crowley sat up, bleary and confused, as Aziraphale pointed at the TV. “That’s our boy! That’s our Warlock!”

“Your...?” questioned Azalea, but stopped speaking. 

Crowley gave his head a shake. “Why is Warlock on the news?” Pause. “Why is he four?”

“I don’t know but he is in the hospital after being forgotten by his own parents alone at home.”

“No staff?”

“They were going to be gone for a month. They gave the staff the time off. Everyone thought he was someplace else.”

Crowley abruptly stood up and left the room. When he returned only a brief time later, he was completely made over as the most formidable nanny that Azalea had ever seen. The nanny bent down to give Aziraphale a kiss.

“I won’t be long.” Crowley paused, gazing at Aziraphale as if having a thought. Then he sighed. “I really hate those whiskers.”

Crowley, or rather Nanny Ashtoreth, then left the apartment. Aziraphale sighed, then noticed Azalea was still staring at the door Crowley had just departed through. After a long time she spoke.

“Mr. Fell, you do have a most singular household.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time Crowley returned, Aziraphale had set up a room and got into his Brother Francis disguise. He was staring at himself in the mirror when he heard the door to the apartment open.

Yeah...this look wasn’t staying. 

He left the bathroom to meet Crowley and Warlock in the front hall. Warlock was in tears, and incredibly glad to see Brother Francis. He took the little boy from Crowley, trying to understand why the child was four. He should be twelve by now. 

“Oh there, there, little Warlock, you’re safe now. You’ll be staying with us for...”

Crowley held up a large collection of very legal looking documents in one hand.

“...ever.”

Crowley put the paperwork back in his bag, then took Warlock from Aziraphale. “Come along, little hellspawn, you need to sleep. You’ve had an awful few days.”

As if on cue, Warlock yawned. Aziraphale went to sit in the den as Crowley tucked the little boy into his bed. Then he came to the den to sit with Aziraphale.

“I love that dress,” said Aziraphale.

“I hate that disguise, how long are you going to keep it?”

“Tomorrow I’ll tell Warlock the dentist will fix my teeth, then let him watch me shave off the whiskers.”

“Good because you are not getting up my skirt looking like that. I had a chat with Adam and found out why Warlock is four, not twelve. He wanted to be be four again. Apparently that was the happiest time in his life. So when Adam put everything back, he gave Warlock his wish. He became four.”

“What happened at age four?” mused Aziraphale. “Isn’t...isn’t it the time his parents went away for the entire summer, and it was just the three of us?”

Crowley nodded. “You and me and Warlock made three.”

“How did you get the hospital to surrender him?”

“Cold blooded intimidation and a few demonic miracles. The Dowlings signed away their parental rights and don’t even know it. We’re his parents as far as the courts are concerned. I should have consulted you, I know...”

“It’s fine, Crowley, really. I just can’t understand how this could have happened.”

“Well from what I gather, Warlock was running a slight temperature and so was put to bed. The father left thinking the mother would take him, the mother left thinking the father already had him, and the staff left thinking the parents had taken him. Warlock woke up to a cold empty house on a very large estate, and for three days wandered around screaming for help until the gardener showed up to check the plants. He took Warlock to the hospital.”

“Well we’re going to have our hands full helping him to get over that.”

“It will take a while, but...angel are you staring at my ankles?”

“I am, I’m sorry, that outfit...affects me.”

“Yours affects me too but probably not in the same manner.”

Aziraphale did away with the Brother Francis disguise, and smiled. “Better?”

“Significantly.”

“Good. Now, with your permission, I’m going to carry you to the bedroom and do obscene things to you.”

“I can’t think of a single thing wrong with that. Although just once I would like you to slam me against a wall and take me without my permission.”

There was a long pause as the pair worked their shared brain cell.

“That counted as permission, didn’t it?” asked Crowley.

“I believe it did.” 

Aziraphale rose to his feet and walked over to Crowley, gathering him into his arms. He carried him to the bedroom and carefully placed him on the bed. 

“I was just reading my first edition Kama Sutra,” said Aziraphale, slowly pushing the long skirt up Crowley’s thighs. “And I’ve been dying to try a few things.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

Aziraphale slipped down the scarlet silk panties, and then lowered his head between Crowley’s thighs. Seconds later Crowley’s claws had utterly destroyed the antique silk velvet bed covers.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The problem with having reduced his husband to a quivering pile of bones stuffed into a black silk slip was Aziraphale found himself doing all the first-night-work with Warlock. The child was utterly insecure, and terrified he would once more wake up abandoned. Finally the only thing to do was put the little boy in bed with them, or else Warlock was never going to get any rest at all. And he desperately needed to rest; he was utterly exhausted from his ordeal. 

Aziraphale put Warlock in the middle of the bed, and watched the child climb under the covers, then roll on his side to face Crowley, who was clearly sound asleep. The child then reached out a small hand to push at the demon’s shoulder, and as Aziraphale watched, as if on cue, a huge black wing rose up. It hovered briefly, as if uncertain, then slowly settled down over the child, enveloping him. The gigantic plumes shifted, and Warlock peeked from between the feathers at Aziraphale.

“Nanny has wings,” whispered the child in a conspiratorial manner.

“So I see!” said Aziraphale, then asked “How did you know?”

“Well how else was we gonna play peek-a-boo?”

“Of course. Silly me.” 

“Why don’t I have wings?”

“Well not everybody does.”

“Oh. Why does Daddy always say he hates to see Nanny go but he loves to watch her walk away?”

Aziraphale managed to not have a jealous fit. “I have no idea.”

Aziraphale climbed into bed, pulling up the covers and thanking the Heavens above he’d thought to clean the sheets and fix the covers before plopping a child into their bed. Warlock shuffled around under the wing before growing still.

“Are you and Nanny married now?”

“Yes, we are.”

“Good. Nanny once told me that she liked you a lot. Like a LOT. Like more than I like toffee and I didn’t know anybody could like somebody THAT much. More than toffee.”

“Goodness, that is a lot,” said Aziraphale. “But you want to know a secret? I like Nanny more than toffee too.”

“Am I going to live with you and Nanny forever?”

“Yes. Is that okay with you?”

“Am I still going to have to take piano lessons?”

“Do you like piano lessons?”

“No. I wanna play the drums like Roger Taylor. He’s the drummer for Queen. He’s cool. Have you ever heard Queen?”

“Once or twice,” said Aziraphale dryly, noticing that “sleeping Nanny” was trying not to grin.

“I really like them. Nanny says...”

“Nanny says it’s ten after two in the morning and little hellspawns should be asleep,” said Crowley.

Warlock yawned, and moments later was sound asleep. Aziraphale wondered how many parents would donate a vital organ for the ability to make a child sleep on command. He gazed at Crowley with deep affection.

“You really are a terrible influence, my dear. And absolutely stunning with your hair all rumpled, and that slip.” Aziraphale reached out to touch his face. “I hope Warlock makes you miss Annabel a little less.”

“I really don’t want to talk about Annabel, angel,” he said quietly. He slowly sat up, wings out, long hair hanging loose in near-ringlets over his shoulders, the slip riding low...

“You are so beautiful,” said Aziraphale quietly. “How did I ever deserve anyone as beautiful as you?”

Crowley smiled wearily. “I ask myself that question about you. I think... we both got damn lucky in the ineffable scheme of things. And I won’t question it. We have each other, and now we have Warlock. And I’m thankful. I’m also in need of a shower.” 

Aziraphale considered following after him, but sensed he needed some alone time. Instead he settled into the bed and closed his eyes. It had been a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gift for Miss Animama.
> 
> Jazz Man (c) Carole King.
> 
> Roger Meddows-Taylor (c) his parents and appears without his consent or approval.

Life with Warlock was taking some time to get used to. He’d always been busy and curious and talkative, as well as into all the mischief kids usually were, but since being abandoned, even by accident, he’d become extremely focused on keeping track of everybody’s movements. There was no more alone time, there was just time spent listening to Warlock continually making sure Crowley and Aziraphale were exactly where they were supposed to be.

“I’m going to eat him,” said Crowley one night. He was splayed on the love seat, glass of wine in one hand, trying to watch his latest DVD with a small child regularly appearing before the TV. “What wine goes well with stewed four year old?”

“White, I believe,” said Aziraphale. “But if I may say so, what we really need to do is give him some activity to get involved in, to help distract him from his fear.”

An eyebrow appeared above the edge of Crowley’s glasses. “I know just the thing.”

Roger Taylor was not delighted at all to be roped into this scheme without his knowledge or consent.

“Funny how none of the music magazines mention that he bites,” said Crowley as he bandaged his hand.

“I suspect it was a reflex action to being grabbed and shoved into a sack,” said Aziraphale. “Did you let him go?”

“Well, sort of. I drugged him, stuffed him into a crate and mailed him to the guitar player.”

With Roger being shipped back to his friend and band mate, Crowley went the more conventional route of finding someone to teach Warlock the drums. They settled on a manky-looking Goth kid that Aziraphale liked immediately. She was calm and patient, and seemed to honestly like the child. She was less crazy about the little boy’s cold and intimidating mother, but Warlock was learning the drums, and slowly becoming less insecure. However there were still nightmares, midnight hall-wanders, and climbing into bed with them.

“I’m going to eat him,” said Crowley, as Warlock managed to squiggle into their bed just as Crowley was considering asking his angel to show him more pages from the Kama Sutra.

“You are not,” said Aziraphale, smiling.

“I am. It’s demonic tradition you know, eating small children. Many well-known demonic entities are child-eaters.”

Warlock emerged from beneath the covers to face Crowley.

“Then they’re all gross. Little kids are poopy and boogery and dirty and if nobody makes us, we don’t EVER take a bath.”

He once more hid under the covers. Crowley stared at the ceiling.

“Well that cured that urge,” he said.

“Warlock,” said Aziraphale to the lump under the covers, “you are going to have to get used to sleeping in your own room again.”

“I don’t want to. What if you go away like Mommy and Daddy did? They never even came looking for me to say they were sorry. And it wouldn’t matter if they did because they wouldn’t mean it.”

“We won’t go away,” said Aziraphale. “Not ever.”

“Well I better stay here just to be sure.”

Crowley sighed quietly, then glanced at Aziraphale to see if his angel was annoyed. Aziraphale just smiled.

“We’ll get through it. He’ll calm down.”

“NANNY! BROTHER FRANCIS! THERE’S A SPIDER IN HERE THE SIZE OF MY HEAD!”

Aziraphale sighed and stared at the ceiling as Crowley slipped under the covers to find out what the kid had.

“Is that a spider?” asked Warlock the Bed Lump.

There was a very long pause. Then; “I have no idea what that is,” said Crowley the Second Lump.

“It’s disgusting!”

“It is. Angel get in here and look at this.”

Grudgingly, the angel did. Together he, Crowley and Warlock stared at something inexplicable. It did look like a spider the size of Warlock’s head, but...not...quite? Warlock cautiously poked it, and the monstrous thing buzzed angrily and lunged. The bed was cleared in seconds, both Warlock and Crowley screaming their heads off while the Great Inexplicable Bug buzzed angrily under the covers. Aziraphale heard a knock at the door and braced himself to talk to irate neighbours as Crowley and Warlock locked themselves in the bathroom.

It was not an irate neighbour. It was Beelzebub. Who was also irate.

“I lost my fly,” the demon informed Aziraphale.

“I think we found your fly.”

Beelzebub was about to say something, then paused. “Do I hear screaming?”

“Er...yes. The fly really did give little Warlock a turn.”

Beelzebub listened a bit longer, then grinned widely as it became clear that one of the voices clearly did not belong to a four year old mortal boy. Aziraphale sighed and went to fetch the fly, returning the monstrous thing to its owner.

“You need to close the portal to your room,” was the only thanks Aziraphale got.

“I’d love to, but Gabriel opened it and he’s the only one who can close it.”

“Still watching the pair of you swap fluids, huh?”

“Good night, Beelzebub.”

He closed the door and returned to the bedroom. “It’s all right, it was just a fly. It’s gone now.”

“We’re never coming out again!” yelled Warlock.

“Well that is very sad indeed,” said Aziraphale, straightening the bedding. “Because tomorrow is Sunday, and I was going to make us pancakes with raspberry syrup for breakfast as well as French toast. But I guess I will have to eat it all myself now.”

The door opened just a little, and Crowley peered out. “With pear preserves?”

“Of course.” Aziraphale climbed into bed.

“Well I suppose we better come out, then.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Life was slowly becoming normal, or rather, what passed for normal. Warlock was happy with his drum lessons and slowly becoming less insecure. Crowley was having fits about Warlock starting school in roughly a year, and didn’t want the child to go. Aziraphale knew that pushing Crowley on the matter would accomplish nothing. Instead he gently pointed out that the child needed friends and social interactions as well as an education. Eventually Crowley relented, but he still didn’t like the idea. Aziraphale dreaded what would happen if Warlock ran into a bully.

There was a follow-up story on the news about Annabel. Crowley didn’t watch it. However he did go out for a while, only to end up being carried home by Sebastian.

“Where was he this time?” asked Aziraphale as he and Sebastian poured Crowley into bed.

“Well he went and watched the Trinity for a while, then he went down to visit St. Peter for a couple hours and got good and smashed with him, then went up to Gabriel’s office, stood on his desk and threw up on it.”

“Oh dear, and Gabriel called you to come get him?”

“No I’d been following Crowley for about an hour at that point.”

Aziraphale gave his friend a stern look. “And you just let my husband vomit all over Gabriel’s desk?”

“No I also opened the drawers for him.”

“Sebastian!”

“What can I say, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” Sebastian noticed a very small form peering into the bedroom at him. “Hey little guy, I’m your Uncle Sebastian!”

The four year old child fled the roughly eight foot tall giant, screaming. Sebastian looked to Aziraphale.

“Kids love me.”

“I see that. Well thank you for bringing him home.”

“No problem,” said Sebastian. “He’s still sad about the baby, isn’t he?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Aziraphale.

“Wish there was some way I could get her back for him.”

“Oh that’s so sweet of you!”

“Yeah the idea of Crowley with a baby was making Gabriel and Michael bonkers.”

Aziraphale sighed heavily. “And for a moment I actually thought you were concerned about my husband.”

Sebastian put an arm around Aziraphale as the pair left the bedroom and began walking to the kitchen. “I can’t lie to you, Az, I’m having a hard time looking past the fact that he’s a demon. But he clearly adores you and you clearly would do anything for him. Just give me a few more centuries to warm up to him. In the meantime let me bask in the schadenfreude.”

“Honestly why would they care if Crowley has a baby?” asked Aziraphale. “What does it matter to them?”

They reached the kitchen. Sebastian seated himself at the table as Aziraphale began putting together dinner.

“Because it’s like that movie Shrek. Like ogres, demons don’t get the cute little angel and they don’t get a happily ever after. Crowley is completely screwing with their sense of reality. He’s a loving devoted husband, he’s a doting father, and, oh yes, he devoured the guy who tossed little Annabel into the dumpster. Whole. Constricted him into paste and then nomed him down.”

“I was wondering why that man hadn’t cropped up on police radar,” said Aziraphale.

“The thing is, being a husband and parent directly contradicts being a demon in their opinion. They like black and white. You and Crowley are the entire spectrum of grey.”

Warlock walked into the kitchen, eyes enormous, staring at Sebastian. “Are you a giant?”

“Technically speaking, yes.”

“Are you gonna grind my bones to make bread?”

“No. Ground bones make terrible bread. It’s very lumpy.”

“Is Nanny drunk?”

“Yes. But Nanny will be okay in a few hours.”

Warlock looked to Aziraphale. “Can I have a can of frosting for dinner?”

“Absolutely not. Now go wash your hands.”

Warlock did. Aziraphale just shook his head. “No we are not making that mistake again.”

“Again?” queried Sebastian. “What do you mean ‘again’?”

“Well Crowley was never in charge of meals and I was the gardener so we are a...little unclear on what to feed a mortal child.”

“NOT a can of frosting! Who gave it to him?”

“Well...er...Crowley. Possibly.”

“So he really is pure evil. Because there is no other explanation for giving a four year old a can of frosting before bed.”

“No, pure evil would be if he gave it to a neighbour’s child and ran.”

“Which he has done, am I right?”

Aziraphale blushed crimson. “Well he really doesn’t do violence and these people were shockingly rude, so...”

Warlock walked into the kitchen once again. “Nanny’s awake. She says she’s gonna wring herself out and join you for dinner. Can I eat in the den? I really wanna watch this show about deep sea dinosaurs.”

“That’s fine.”

Warlock went off to watch dinosaurs. Aziraphale sighed.

“Just don’t let Nanny catch you hiding your vegetables in the fireplace again.”

Sebastian grinned, then said “So where did Crowley come up with the name Annabel Lee? He didn’t name the baby after that horrible and allegedly possessed doll, did he?”

“Oh no, it’s from his favourite Edgar Allen Poe story. Well, poem really. Very sad, about a boy in love with a girl, who dies. Bit ironic too given the circumstances, considering he had to part with his own Annabel Lee.”

“Yeah, I know it,” said Sebastian. “And neither the angels in Heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul, Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.”

“I keep forgetting Crowley reads, and reads a great deal,” said Aziraphale. “He just prefers to do it when he’s entirely alone. Just like he forgets I do actually listen to music from this century.”

“Baloney,” grumbled a voice from down the hall.

“Ah,” said Sebastian, “methinks I doth hear a drunken disparaging serpent.”

“He’s not disparaging, he’s disagreeing,” said Aziraphale. He then called “Are we a little drunk?”

“We’re bloody hammered but getting less so. And I challenge you to sing me a few lines from nothing less recent than the sixties.”

Aziraphale brightened. “Crowley darling?”

“Yes my angel?”

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Before we go any further...”

“Yes?”

“Do you love me?  
Will you love me forever?  
Do you need me?  
Will you never leave me?  
Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?  
Will you take me away and will you make me your wife?  
Do you love me?  
Will you love me forever?  
Do you need me?  
Will you never leave me?  
Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?  
Will you take me away and will you make me your wife?  
I gotta know right now  
Before we go any further  
Do you love me?  
Will you love me forever?”

“Oh very good,” said Sebastian. “1977, that clears the marker.”

Crowley peered around the corner. He looked like Hell warmed over but he was alert and his eyes were bright with mischief.

“I think you’re in trouble, Az,” said Sebastian.

Crowley drew a breath, and suddenly seemed to become a living personification of seduction and temptation. His whole body exuded sexuality, desire, wanton carnal sin of the likes not seen since the glory days of Rome, and he prowled toward his angel.

“Let me sleep on it  
Baby, baby let me sleep on it  
Let me sleep on it  
And I'll give you an answer in the morning  
Let me sleep on it  
Baby, baby let me sleep on it  
Let me sleep on it  
And I'll give you an answer in the morning...”

Aziraphale had to lean back against the counter to hold himself up as he gazed deeply into golden eyes.

“Okay,” he managed to say, his voice cracking.

“That’s not how the rest of the song goes,” Crowley teased gently.

“Don’t care,” said Aziraphale, his voice like a badly played violin.

Crowley grinned. “Good to know I can still work a little temptation.”

“Temptation very much accomplished.”

Crowley kissed him. “Why don’t you go sit with Warlock, and I’ll finish dinner.”

Aziraphale left the room and went to sit with Warlock and catch his breath. Sebastian watched Crowley eye the array of vegetables and seasonings on the counter.

“I think he was planning a vegetarian stir-fry,” said Sebastian.

“That’s ridiculous, vegetarians taste awful.”

Sebastian watched Crowley use four or five miracles to make dinner, complete with a selection of wines. He shook his head, smiling, then asked a question he had been wanting to ask for a long time.

“How did you do it, Crowley? How did you get Az to fall for you? You may have noticed he’s not exactly chock full of self esteem. It must have taken forever for him to believe you actually loved him.”

Crowley looked over his shoulder at the seraph, then shrugged.

“I just loved him until he realized he was worth loving.”

Sebastian smiled. “I’m beginning to understand what he sees in you.”

Crowley turned away, ignoring the comment. “Coming to join us for supper in the den? We’re going to learn all about the whogivesafuckasaurus.”

“Oh come on, who doesn’t love dinosaurs?”

“I don’t, especially the aquatic ones, they give me nightmares.”

“Crowley?”

“Yes?”

“You’re adorable.”

“Fuck off, you can carry the beef wellington. If we were meant to know about the animals in the deep they’d be cute. And they’re NOT. They all look like the denizens in my first apartment complex in Hell.” Crowley paused in thought, then looked to Sebastian. “Did I throw up all over Gabriel’s desk?”

“Yes. I’m supposed to give you a severe tongue lashing for it.”

“Starting when?”

“Starting after I mention I opened the drawers to maximize coverage.”

“You – I like.” Crowley proudly carried dinner into the den. Aziraphale was surprised at the sight of the beef wellington.

“What happened to my vegetarian stir fry?”

“The vegetarian escaped.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been eight weeks since they had given Annabel back to her family, and six since Warlock had come to live with them. So much had changed so fast, but not the things that really mattered. Crowley had slowly shed the Nanny persona. The rather severe uniform was gradually replaced with more stylish, fashionable clothes, and the hair became more loose and natural. Warlock barely noticed the transformation, although there were times Aziraphale saw the child looking at Crowley with curiosity. Finally Warlock asked his question.

“Are you a boy or a girl?”

“Why?”

“Just wonderin’. I thought you were a girl.”

“Well I could be I suppose.”

Warlock shrugged. “Okay.”

Crowley watched the child walk away, then looked to Aziraphale.

“Clearly I’ve scarred him for life.”

“Clearly.” Aziraphale walked over to Crowley, taking his hand. “Crowley dear I’ve been thinking...”

“Yes angel?”

“I thought it might be nice to have a family name. I mean...we are a family. Maybe something with a hyphen.”

Crowley looked uncertain. “Yes but that would make my last name Crowley-Fell and I’m really not sure how I feel about that. Hits a nerve, you might say.”

“Well we could reverse it. Fell-Crowley.”

“I like that one a lot better.”

They kissed softly, standing close to each other, Aziraphale basking in the feel of Crowley’s lips against his brow. Their moment was interrupted by Warlock suddenly screaming.

“Nanny! There’s a bug in my shoe!”

Aziraphale was about to say he would deal with it, when there came a knock at the door.

“I’ll handle the bug, you deal with the door-knockers,” said Crowley.

“Yes dear.”

Aziraphale watched him go, muttering to himself “It better not be that monster that Beelzebub owns again.”

He went to the door and opened it, and was surprised to see an elderly woman, a young girl of about seventeen holding a baby, and a man in a dark grey suit holding a briefcase. The elderly woman was gazing at him with astonishment.

“Can I help you?” asked Aziraphale.

“I think we have the wrong apartment,” said the woman, “We’re looking for Anthony Crowley...?”

“He’s my husband,” said Aziraphale.

The woman just...stared. “Boy that must be a heck of a tale.”

Aziraphale was puzzled by her comment, but then realized this woman was not looking at his corporeal form at all. She was actually seeing him for what he was. Then the 3-watt bulb went on over his head.

“Oh you must be Nana Comfrey, and Violet! Come in, and of course we know little Annabel, you should have let us know you were coming!”

“It was my idea,” said Violet. “I’m sorry.”

“No not at all, we’re so glad to have you.” He looked to the man in the grey suit. “And you are...?”

“This is Mr. Niven,” said Nana Comfrey.

There was no further explanation, so Aziraphale introduced himself.

“I’m Zira Fell, please come in.”

They went into the den, tea was served, and then there was something of a strained silence. It wasn’t until Violet began to tear up that Nana Comfrey spoke.

“Violet has been accepted to a very prestigious school in Sweden. She won a scholarship.”

“Oh, congratulations.”

“We’re very excited for her,” said Nana Comfrey.

“You mean you are,” said Violet. She looked to Aziraphale. “I’ve had to come live with Nana, which is fine, Nana and I have great fun together. But I’ve had so many fights with my parents... and now my boyfriend Jim has walked away. Said he doesn’t want to be a dad at his age. Walked out on Annabel too. Signed away his parental rights, even.”

“That’s terrible! You don’t think he had anything to do with Annabel ending up in that dumpster, do you?” asked Aziraphale.

“No,” said Violet. “I don’t, not for a moment. I just don’t think he was too terribly happy that Mr. Crowley fished her out.” The girl drew deep breath, then said “I’ve decided to put Annabel up for adoption.”

Aziraphale sensed something lurking nearby; unseen but very much aware of the conversation taking place. Violet continued speaking, albeit tearfully.

“Mum and Dad are so angry, that’s why I had to go live with Nana. They say I’m being selfish, and that God wanted me to have this baby and I’m throwing away His gift. But she’s all I do think about! If I keep her, I have to quit school and find a job. Nana can’t afford to feed all of us. Annabel won’t have any of the things a baby needs to have a real future, and neither will I. It will be council flats and the dole and nothing else, and what kind of life is that for a child? I’m not selfish! But I’m seventeen and I can’t look after her properly. If I go to Sweden and attend the university there, then I can make something of myself. That way any future children I have will really have a chance.”

“I see,” said Aziraphale quietly. “Well I have to say I agree with you, you’re definitely thinking of your baby. I’m sure that...somebody would love to have her.”

Violet nodded. “I think so too. So when I came to this decision, I knew that the first person I should ask if he wanted her was...”

Crowley came tearing into the room, leaping over the sofa upon which Aziraphale sat to come before Violet and gently take Annabel. Aziraphale winced.

“Please tell me you were going to say Crowley.”

Violet giggled through her tears, and nodded. “Yeah. I was.”

“But the offer comes with a condition,” said Nana Comfrey. “I want to remain Annabel’s great-grandmother. She’s my first great-grandchild.”

Aziraphale looked to Crowley. “I don’t think that will be a problem. Will it, dear?”

Crowley hissed. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, then looked to Nana Comfrey. “He says we’ll be delighted.”

“There are papers to sign, of course,” said Mr. Niven.

Aziraphale looked from the lawyer to Nana Comfrey. “I’m assuming you had a certain amount of confidence in how we would feel about keeping little Annabel,” he said.

Nana Comfrey nodded toward Crowley. “Yes, it was little Mr. Don’t Give A Shit About Babies there crying his eyes out who gave it away.”

“I wasn’t crying. I’m very sensitive to dust.”

Papers were signed, agreements were made, and Crowley took Violet to introduce her to Warlock and show her Annabel’s room. Mr. Niven followed along, as if out of mild curiosity, but Aziraphale had a feeling his real job was looking for any red flags in Annabel’s new home. So far the only red flags seemed to be the sheer amount of excess.

“If you keep this up, you’ll have to change her name to Rotten Meat, she’ll be so spoiled!” Violet exclaimed.

Nana Comfrey and Aziraphale stayed in the den, sipping tea. Finally the old woman shook her head, and began speaking.

“You know I can see you. And I can see him.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale admitted.

She gazed at him, as if trying to put words into a question, but finally just asked “How?”

“I don’t really know,” said Aziraphale. “But six thousand years ago this...demon showed up on the walls of Eden and asked me what I did with my sword and...a friendship started. Eventually we had to admit the friendship was in reality a very intense love affair. I love him. And he loves me, probably more than I deserve.”

“And you have no fear of him. No fear for the children?”

“I have fear for any who try to harm them.”

“And...you have no idea why my ex-husband has never been seen again.”

Aziraphale said softly; “No, I know why he has never been seen again, and never will be. I must warn you, Nana Comfrey, and please, do not take this as an attempt to intimidate you, that’s not my intention at all. Crowley will defend her with all his power, as will I. I hope Violet’s parents do not try to take Annabel back.”

“I don’t believe they will. I think in time they will realize that Violet is making the right decision for both herself and Annabel. But I do think Mr. Crowley goes a little overboard on the expensive items.”

“Yes, well, he’s always been a little excessive. He just likes nice things. And for some reason tolerates a husband who looks like an unmade bed.”

“I’d love you if you were stark naked,” said Crowley from the other room.

“The feeling is very much mutual, my dear.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

No one had to tell Gabriel that Crowley had his baby back; it was all the cherubs were talking about. It was enough to drive an archangel to madness, but he tried not to think about it as he cleaned his desk. So Crowley and his lump had a baby. Big deal. Let them bask in the glory of watching her grow old and slow and frail, only to finally end as all mortals did.

He paused in his bitter musings to stare at something unidentifiable stuck to the bottom of a drawer. Good Heavens, what did Aziraphale feed that monster?

“I take it you are not pleased that Crowley and Aziraphale have their baby back,” said a quiet voice.

Gabriel straightened up to stand before Divina. “I am neither pleased nor displeased, Lady Divina, merely grateful they will not breed.”

She giggled, and Gabriel knew he was not going to like what he was about to hear.

“But they will,” she said softly.

Yup. He was right.

“But they can’t!” he protested. “Both Heaven and Hell decreed this cannot happen. An angel and a demon cannot procreate.”

“It has been decided,” said Divina. Of course no explanation would be given for why this decision had been reached. Likely it had something to do with how Tweedledum and Tweedledummer balanced each other, and showed no judgement toward one another. He could see Jesus having a hand in this; he was always on about peace and compassion.

Gabriel’s jaw hung for a few moments, and then he closed his mouth, and nodded his head. “Of course, Lady Divina.” Then he asked nervously; “Is one of them pregnant now?”

“No. This child will not come to be for one hundred fifty years, when certain factors are in place. Then the demon Crowley shall bring forth a child fathered by Principality Aziraphale.” She giggled again, and Gabriel knew things were about to get worse.

“And who better to herald the coming event than the same angel who came to young Mary?”

Gabriel stared. Then finally spoke. “This was Mary’s idea, wasn’t it?”

“Are you not pleased to be honoured thusly?”

He almost said he’d rather go scrub Satan’s toilet again, but realized that could be arranged.

“I am very pleased with this honour, and humbly accept.”

“Wonderful! Now get into your traditional robes. It is a beautiful winter night with a full moon, what better time to give them the news?”

Dutifully, with all the joy of someone going to their execution, Gabriel went to change.

~*~*~*~*~*~

They were in bed. For once, Aziraphale was asleep, and Crowley was reading. Warlock was in his own bed, and baby Annabel was tucked into a little swinging crib where her new Mommy could keep an eye on her. All was well and peaceful in the Fell-Crowley household. And then Crowley noticed something was glowing in the walk-in closet. Crowley closed his book and set it aside, nudging his angel into wakefulness as the Archangel Gabriel stepped into their room. He was clad head to toe in white robes, accented with a violet sash, and holding his silver trumpet.

He did not look thrilled to be there.

“Finally flipped, have you?” Crowley inquired with mock politeness.

“Just let me get on with this so you can get back to your...whatever.”

Crowley showed Gabriel the book. “It’s a collection of Shakespeare's comedies. Sorry, no pornography. Now go ahead, you got all dressed up, lay it on us.”

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Behold, for I bring you tidings of great joy! For it has been decreed that in one hundred fifty year’s time, the demon Crowley shall bring forth a child fathered by his eternal companion, Aziraphale.”

There was a long pause. “Whut?” the duo finally said.

“You’re gonna have a baby,” said Gabriel, irritated.

Aziraphale was confused. Crowley was paranoid.

“Oh no I’m not, I’m not having a baby unless I know who in what position on what level of the office building said I was.”

“The Lady Divina.”

“Why?”

“Something about bringing balance to the world.”

“NOT happening,” said Crowley, “I saw what happened to the last fellow who wanted to bring balance and compassion, I still have nightmares. No child of mine is getting nailed to a cross.”

“Who said it was going to get nailed to a cross?” demanded Gabriel.

“Nobody, but that’s how these things work,” said Crowley. “You start talking about peace and balance, the next thing you know some centurion is ramming a spear into your guts while you hang from a plank. NO. No baby.”

“Oh for crying out loud,” said Gabriel, exasperated. “YOU are a demon. Your husband is an angel. Are you really going to sit there and expect me to believe the pair of you would not level an entire city if someone tried to hurt your baby? You ATE a man who hurt a baby you didn’t even give birth to!”

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged glances. “He is right,” said Aziraphale.

“For once,” said Crowley.

“Of course I’m right! And for crying out loud you just broke a rule that has been in place for millennia, try to be a little happy about it! Now if you will excuse me...”

“Wait,” said Aziraphale. “There is just one more thing.”

“And what would that be?” asked Gabriel.

“Well you have to sing.”

Gabriel stared. “I what?”

“The song clearly states, “Hark the herald angels sing”, and since you are the herald...”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale in complete awe. “You are such a bastard, I love you.”

“Thank you darling.”

Gabriel smoldered with anger, but...decided to not let it get to him. He was being tested, and so far he had not been doing so well. Maybe it was time to face his own arrogance and try to have a little fun. He pulled out his trumpet. Then as Crowley and Aziraphale watched, Gabriel launched into an utterly exceptional version of Jazz Man by Carole King.

“When the Jazz Man’s testifyin’  
A faithless man believes.  
He can sing you into paradise  
Or bring you to your knees.  
It’s a gospel kinda feelin’,  
A touch of Georgia slide.  
A song of pure revival  
And a style that’s sanctified...”

“Are you as stunned as I am to learn that he can actually play and sing?” asked Aziraphale.

“Well he couldn’t when I was dating him,” said Crowley.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The apartment was silent. Aziraphale and Crowley were settled in their bed, snuggled close. Warlock was sound asleep, hugging a purple stuffed dragon wearing a nightcap. Gabriel was seated in a chair in the kitchen, basking in the peace of the household, sipping some of the apricot brandy that had been in a glass decanter on the counter. He was a little startled when he heard shuffling in the hall, and Crowley appeared, holding Annabel. The two regarded each other, then Crowley disregarded him to go to the fridge to get a bottle to heat. He was wearing shorts and an undershirt, and his hair was grown quite long.

He was utterly beautiful in a scruffy sort of way.

“It’s late,” said Crowley. “What are you still doing here?”

“Just admiring your home,” said Gabriel. “I was just thinking – this could have been all mine.”

Crowley took out a bottle and closed the fridge door. “This was all yours,” he said, his tone cold. “You threw it away.”

Gabriel drew a breath. “I had...”

“I don’t care. I really don’t. That’s a great thing about being a demon, you are absolutely free to tell anyone you like to go fuck themselves. Now if you will excuse me...”

“Crowley...”

Crowley put the bottle in the microwave to warm. “Just leave, Gabriel, there’s nothing for you here. This is my home. My place. My family. I don’t care what your reasons were for what you did. It was all over far too long ago for any explanations to have any value.”

Gabriel nodded, finished his brandy, and left. Crowley focused on Annabel, but his thoughts began to wander to a time in the future. He looked up as Aziraphale walked into the kitchen to see what was going on.

“In one hundred fifty years,” he said to his angel, “the world will meet a hormonal pregnant demon.” He smiled. “What a mess that will be.”

Aziraphale walked over to him to kiss his brow. “I can’t wait.”


	3. Chapter 3 - Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue. Fits in with my “I Think We’re Alone Now” AU.
> 
> Gift for Miss Animama.

Seraphs didn’t need to sleep, but Sebastian really liked to. It was a perfectly enjoyable little treat that was in no way objectionable, and he found dreaming to be endlessly fascinating. However, exactly one hundred fifty years ago, there was a prophecy made about one particular demon popping out a baby fathered by one particular angel. As a result, every single time these days that said demon hiccuped, slept too much, slept too little, ate things he didn’t normally, didn’t eat things he normally did, scratched, itched, sneezed or ANYTHING, Daddy Angel screamed for his friend and health care professional.

Sebastian knew Crowley adored Aziraphale with all his heart. But Crowley was a demon, and Sebastian did not think for a moment that Crowley was above winding his husband up for shits and giggles. So when Sebastian’s phone summoned him from its charger on the nightstand, he was ready to turn it off without looking. But he did look, and sighed heavily.

Azzy: YOU HAVE TO COME WUICK Im sure he’s pregnant WHERE ARE YOU///?

“Lord, why are you testing me thusly?” he groaned. He sent his own response.

2hot4U: Azzy, calm down, I’ll be there in a few moments. And if I end up listening to an angry demon digest an egg salad sandwich one more time...

Azzy: HE’S NOT EATING EGGS SHOULD I BE WORRIED???

2hot4U: NO! Cripes, Azzy, calm dwn!

Sebastian turned off his phone and flung back the covers. So much for sleeping and dreaming.

“Crowley old boy,” said Sebastian as he rose from the bed. “I do not envy you the time you will spend carrying that baby.”

He dressed, but messily, and in whatever he found tossed onto the arm chair in his room to signify he was not pleased. Then he went to Earth and to a certain stone cottage on the South Downs of England. He was about to knock on the door when it flew open and Aziraphale dragged him inside.

“Azzy, seriously, what the fu...”

Aziraphale motioned furiously for Sebastian to be silent, then led him by the wrist into the library. Sebastian had always loved Aziraphale’s library. He loved the peace and softness of it, the gentle clutter, the smell of books, and how all the world seemed sepia-toned. It was truly a peaceful and magical place...with a demon flopped on the small couch near the window.

Crowley was still a fashion plate, and Sebastian really approved of this century’s fashions, which were, for the most part, androgynous. Crowley’s hair was long and flowing, and he was wearing knee high black leather boots over low-slung black leather pants with a wide turquoise and silver sixties retro belt. His cotton tunic was black also, with scarlet accents, and hung in loose draping folds to softly accent his slender form. Sebastian stopped dead and just stared.

Wow. Crowley was hot.

Aziraphale poked him, clearly wishing Sebastian would stop ogling his husband. Sebastian used sign language to communicate so not to disturb Crowley.

“He is way hot.”

Aziraphale showed Sebastian a sign not used in polite society. Sebastian rolled his eyes, then asked in sign; “So why is he pregnant this time?”

“I felt it! I clearly felt it!”

“The last thing you “clearly felt” was an under-cooked bean burrito.”

“Just go feel! I’m right this time!”

Sebastian was not a fan of laying hands on Crowley. While the demon was very pretty to look at, he did tend to bite unauthorized hands.

The huge seraph walked over to Crowley and seated himself on the floor, moving quietly so not to disturb his patient. Carefully, warily, he reached his hand out to place over Crowley’s stomach. The demon shifted slightly, like a cat, but settled again, remaining in a deep sleep. Certain he was not about to be bitten, he closed his eyes and reached out...

And felt it. This was no bean burrito. This was a complex dance of electrical impulses and cellular activity, busily weaving matter into what would eventually become a child. He eased away from Crowley and got to his feet. Aziraphale was almost leaping as Sebastian led him out of the room and into the hall. He closed the library door behind them, and looked into bright shining eyes.

“Yes,” was all Sebastian said, and watched Aziraphale nearly explode with emotion. He grinned as his friend seemed to go in fifty directions at once, bouncing with joy. Then of course the next question.

“Is he all right?”

“I don’t know, Azzy, this is kind of a first. As in ever. As in no one has any idea why Lady Divina decreed this shall happen. Not even Lilith and Samael managed to make a baby and they are at least male and female. Do you have any reason to fear your darling reptile is not well?”

“He just seems a bit irritable is all.”

Sebastian gazed with fondness at the chubby little derp. “Azzy, I love you. I do. But getting irritable is part of the process. He won’t feel good, his hormones will be screwing with his emotions...which is scary because Crowley is not stoic at the best of times...and as he gets more uncomfortable as things progress he may just roar in your face a few times. Also – be prepared for Baby Brain.”

“What is Baby Brain?”

“Uh, general cognitive functioning, memory and executive functioning issues associated with being pregnant. May not even be a real thing, but there is a chance he could get dumber.”

“My Crowley is not dumb!”

“Your Crowley lost the AntiChrist, I’m not sure how else to define that.”

Aziraphale was indignant. “That could happen to anyone!”

Sebastian smooched him on the brow. “I’m going back to bed. Enjoy your cognitively-impaired hormonal danger noodle.”

The seraph went home to bed. Aziraphale was far too excited to sleep, so instead he began planning a party.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was early evening when Crowley awoke. He felt like garbage. Lately it seemed all he wanted to do was sleep, and then sleep some more. He could easily dream away whole centuries, and likely would if he didn’t have his angel living with him. He couldn’t possibly leave something that adorable alone for too long.

Slowly he sat up, feeling...not great. His long hair slipped over one shoulder, the tresses decorated with long strands of red gold, hung with tiny glittering rubies. He made a face as his back complained, and his stomach demanded milk. Not just ANY milk, but full fat heavy cream. He was going to guzzle down a liter of cream, then go snuggle his angel before falling back asleep.

Crowley made his way into the kitchen, scuffing his way to the fridge, and opening it. Inside were eight one liter size glass bottles of cream. Apparently his angel went shopping. How long has this habit been going on? He didn’t dislike cream, but drinking it from the bottle out of the fridge was new. He’d been feeling so odd lately...

He pulled out a bottle, uncapped it, and began pouring the fluid down his throat. Then...slowly...it occurred to him that he was not alone in the room. The thought had only just entered his head when he heard someone behind him sniff. Startled, he whirled around, white cream on his lips, running down his chin, a few drops exploring his throat. He forced himself to swallow what he had in his mouth, and stared at the crowd in his kitchen. It was a random collection of pretty much everyone from Heaven and Hell that they knew and at least somewhat liked, with Sebastian’s gigantic form looming in the back, and Aziraphale looking fit to explode at the front. Crowley set the bottle of milk aside and wiped at his mouth.

“Uh...angel?”

“Surprise!” said Aziraphale.

Crowley was VERY glad that the whole ensemble didn’t shout that at him while his back was turned; chances were very good there would have been an incident. Confused, he watched Aziraphale approach to embrace him.

“What’s the surprise?” asked Crowley, accepting the hug.

“You’re pregnant,” said Sebastian from over the heads of the crowd.

Crowley stared, jaw hanging. “I’m what?”

Aziraphale was nearly ready to explode with glee. “We’re going to have a baby! It’s the prophecy come true, you’re pregnant! I had Sebastian check, he felt it!”

Crowley went from confused to indignant. “Why is he feeling me in my sleep?”

“Because he’s not feeling you in your wake,” said Sebastian. “You bite.”

Crowley was looking around at the gathering in his kitchen, feeling Aziraphale hold him, shivering with emotion. Slowly the thought processed. Equally slowly, Crowley began sinking to the floor.

“Crowley? Darling? Are you all right?”

“No? I think I’d like to faint now...”

Crowley fainted. It was the shortest party of his life.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Crowley lounged in bed, feeling run down and tired as Aziraphale pandered to his every whim.

“I feel like shit,” he complained.

Aziraphale paused in his fussing to lean across the bed and give his husband a kiss on the head.

“I know, darling, let me look after you.”

“What if I lay an egg?”

“You won’t lay an egg.”

“But what if I do, though? I’m a serpent. Serpents lay eggs.”

“Not all snakes lay eggs, my dear,” said Aziraphale, coming to seat himself on the bed. “Some vipers gestate the egg in their body and give birth to live young.”

“So I could give birth to a live baby and broken egg shell. Wonderful.”

“Crowley,” said Aziraphale softly, “I will do everything in my power to make certain you’re okay. You and the baby, however it’s born.”

“Did you ever see the movie ‘Alien’?”

“That is not going to happen.”

Crowley gazed at him with large golden eyes. “I’m scared,” he whispered in the smallest voice.

“I know,” said Aziraphale, his voice equally soft. “I am too, honestly. But I will be right here by your side and I will care for you. Now – you need your rest.”

“I need you.”

Aziraphale changed and got into bed beside Crowley. Within minutes, Crowley was snuggled close and sound asleep. For a very long time, Aziraphale just gazed at him, holding him close, feeling the life grow inside him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

45 days later...

Sebastian was very busy these days being a bad influence on Beatrice. Currently he and his Bestie were indulging in Snuggling and Sleeping, with occasional Cuddling and Kissing. It was a lot of fun, and Sebastian could see why having a life partner meant so much to Aziraphale, even if his main squeeze was some sort of snake.

There was a pun in there somewhere...

The pair were mostly asleep, sliding into definitely asleep, when Sebastian’s phone rang. Grumbling and muttering, he reached for it, and gazed at the message.

Azzy: YOU HAJE TO COME HEJ A BGIOS RUHT BOW BABY!

“Is it serious?” asked Beatrice drowsily.

Sebastian sighed heavily, and kissed his friend’s temple. “You stay warm and toasty, I’ll go check this out.”

“I like that plan. Especially the part about me not getting out of bed.”

Sebastian threw on a bath robe and went to see what was up with Aziraphale and Crowley. He doubted very much the demon was popping out a baby; surely it took longer than 45 days. He grumped his way down to the cottage, and was met by a nearly incomprehensible Principality.

“BABY!” shrieked the disheveled daddy-to-be.

“Oh good Lord above. Look if he bites me, I’m going home.”

“BABY!”

Sebastian went to the bedroom, and found Crowley in bed, staring at him.

“So glad you’re here,” said Crowley. “My husband has flipped his shit.”

“Are you in labour?”

“How should I know, they don’t have birthing classes in Heaven or Hell because apparently we’re not supposed to be making babies.”

“All right.” Sebastian came to seat himself on the bed, and carefully drew down the covers to look at his patient. So far Crowley was not growling or hissing, so...all was good. However...he was enormous. If this had been a human woman, Sebastian would place her somewhere in her fourth trimester. “Wow. You’re gigantic.”

“Is that normal?”

“I don’t know, as you said yourself, we’re not supposed to be making babies. Tell me how...Crowley are you all right?”

Crowley turned grey, grabbed Sebastian’s arm, and almost broke it. The seraph screamed in pain as the demon roared, spewing out curse words backwards and in Latin.

“BABY!” shrieked Aziraphale.

Sebastian sank to his knees, waiting for the contraction to pass and to reclaim his arm. “Ow,” he whimpered.

“What the fuck was that?” demanded Crowley.

“It was a contraction, you’re in labour.” Sebastian picked himself off the floor. “How long has this been happening?”

“Less than an hour. What do I do? I have no idea what....FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”

Crowley writhed and screamed, while out in the hall his husband did pretty much the same thing. Sebastian was rapidly becoming annoyed.

“Azzy get in here now, because I need your help, and if I touch him where he needs to be touched then I’m gonna lose a hand.”

Aziraphale came rushing into the room. “What do I do?”

“I need you to tell me how far his birth canal is dilated.”

“I don’t think he has one of those.”

“Well he better miracle one up fast or we’re in a shit tonne of trouble.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Sebastian returned to his home, dropped his clothes as he slogged his way into the bedroom, and got into bed with Beatrice.

“Azzy and his demon are now the proud parents of triplets.”

Beatrice’s eyes opened wide as the seraph pondered that. “Only 45 days after conception?”

“Well there was one slight irregularity. Wanna see a photo of the little darlings?”

“Yes I would!”

Sebastian brought up the photo on his phone, and held it out for his companion to see the picture. It was of a trio of eggs. They were streaked black, white, and silver, and looked a great deal like something out of a reptile.

“Crowley laid eggs?!”

“Yes he did, three of them, one right after another. Now we get to wait until they hatch.”

Beatrice yawned. “I wonder what will be inside?”

Sebastian turned off his phone and set it aside. “With my luck, dragons.”


End file.
